little, red, wolf // popular magic

October 17, 2015

The snow hushed the city sounds and from far far off came a chorus
of howls and yelps. Mama, I hear wolves, she said. Hush, my dear.
There are no wolves near. It’s only the wind in the dried old cornstalks,
only the whine of the furnace turning on
, said Mama. But the girl knew
no furnace yelped so high and wild, no wind howled so savage and
lonesome. She dreamt of dark fur speckled with glints of light like a
winter night sky, of a pool of warm red that spread across the fresh snow.

-from "little, red, wolf" (read more)


Pop music is a spell for staying young. I’m thirty-three

but you’d think I was seventeen, the way I’m carrying

on. My youth was all punk rock, girls who told me

about living fast and drinking in alleys. Told me to wear

ripped fishnets and leather jackets, fuck whoever I wanted

to, do whatever I fucking wanted to. Now that I’m older it’s

that tart pop that sings my song.

​-from "Popular Magic" (read more)

Please reload

Bone & Ink Press in full effect

January 22, 2018

Please reload

Recent Posts
Featured Posts
Follow Us
  • Facebook Clean
  • Twitter Clean
  • Instagram Clean
  • YouTube Clean
  • RSS Clean

November 22, 2017

July 24, 2017

June 26, 2017

January 14, 2017

December 27, 2016

Please reload

© Copyright 2014-2020 by Jessie Lynn McMains